


something wrong with the village

by imhereforgaysuperheroes, soup_illustrations (potofsoup)



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: BAMF Steve Rogers, Internalized Homophobia, Jewish Bucky Barnes, M/M, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pining, Pre-World War II Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Religious Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-16 23:59:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18953698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imhereforgaysuperheroes/pseuds/imhereforgaysuperheroes, https://archiveofourown.org/users/potofsoup/pseuds/soup_illustrations
Summary: Bucky knew that Steve was...different.None of that mattered, though. Steve was his best friend. He couldn’t imagine life without him. In a year or so, Steve would find a nice girl and settle down, and all of this would be forgotten. Steve wasn’t a fairy. It’d just been so long since he’d had a date - these damn girls in New York don’t recognize a good thing when it’s staring them in the face - that he’d given up hope of finding a girl. Bucky would fix that.





	something wrong with the village

**Author's Note:**

> My Cap RBB entry, based off a freaking incredible piece of art by potofsoup, who was so awesome they even did an extra piece of art for this fic! 
> 
> Big thanks to them, the mods, the whole Stucky family, and my soulmate, Mack, who was the world's best beta reader and deserves all the love in the world. 
> 
> Title from Wrabel's "The Village"

 

 

Bucky glanced up from the newspaper he was reading. “Steve?”

Silence.

“Hey, Steve!”

Nothing.

_“Stevie!_  

Finally, Steve huffed and turned to look at Bucky from where he was stretched out on their couch. _“What_ , Buck?”

 “Watcha drawing?”

 Steve rolled his eyes, swiping bits of hair out of his face. “None of your business.”

 "But I wanna see it!”

 “I’m not done.”

 “But I wanna _see_.”

 “Lord, Buck. Can’t you just entertain yourself for five minutes?”

 “I’ve been entertaining myself for thirty-five minutes,” Bucky corrected him with a grin. “And I’m bored.”

 “Read the newspaper.”

 “I did that already.”

 “Fine,” Steve grumbled, flipping to a new page in his sketchbook. “Then at least sit still so I can draw you properly before we go out.”

Bucky grinned and settled into his chair.

* * *

It wasn’t that Bucky had a problem with...those fellas.

He didn’t, really. Living in their neighborhood, he saw lots of them, and he walked past the bars each day on his way to and from work. They were fine. But that didn’t mean he wanted to spend his night surrounded by them.

When Steve suggested going out to one of the queer bars, he said it nonchalantly, just in passing while he was sketching, with the same attitude as if he was asking Bucky if he thought it’d rain tomorrow.

Bucky very nearly dropped the bottle of shoe polish he was holding.

“Uh...are you sure, Stevie? Why don’t we go to the dance hall and rustle up some dates?”

“Nah, I don’t feel like dancing.”

Bucky swallowed the lump in his throat. “Stevie...that bar’s, um... _other_ types of people go to it.”

Steve looked up for the first time. “Other?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“You know what I mean. The...fairies.”

“There’ll be colored folks there too, want me to find a whites-only bar?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Bucky huffed. “C’mon, Steve.”

“Why don’t you wanna go?”

“I - “

“Don’t wanna be surrounded by the queers? Scared of a couple pansies making a move on you?”

“I just don’t know why you’d rather be there than out dancing with a couple pretty girls!”

“These are my friends, Buck. I’d rather spend the night with them than out on a date with you and some girl who won’t look twice at me.”

“You’re not gonna find a girl if you won’t even try.”

Steve gave him a _look_. One of those looks that Bucky knew as a mark of Steve digging in his heels. “I’m going, whether you are or not.”

And that really didn’t leave Bucky with much of a choice, did it?

* * *

Bucky knew that Steve was...not completely right. No, that wasn’t it. Steve was always right. He was...different. In so many ways, but in this one too. Bucky knew that Steve went to queer bars every so often. He knew that Steve had spent a couple of nights with some fella named Arnie last year. Steve would hug him tight and those full lips would brush against his cheek, barely there and so fast Bucky wasn’t sure Steve had even meant to do it. He saw Steve’s eyes lingering on him when they were out on dates, could feel those strong, slender hands resting on his hip during nights where they pushed the beds together to keep warm. Bucky would cut his hair and Steve would lean into the touch, pressing back until those soft, bright locks were threaded between Bucky’s fingers.

None of that mattered, though. Steve was his best friend. He couldn’t imagine life without him. In a year or so, Steve would find a nice girl and settle down, and all of this would be forgotten. Steve wasn’t a fairy. It’d just been so long since he’d had a date - these damn girls in New York don’t recognize a good thing when it’s staring them in the face - that he’d given up hope of finding a girl. Bucky would fix that.

* * *

When Bucky followed Steve out the door, he couldn’t help but notice that although he was wearing the clothes he usually wore on dates, he looked happy and carefree in a way Bucky couldn’t remember seeing on any of those double dates. Steve usually spent the night looking miserable. Now, though, on their way to this queer bar, Steve was grinning from ear to ear. Bucky almost felt bad about it. He didn’t want Steve to hate going on double dates with him. He just wanted Steve to find a nice girl he could be happy with. Bucky tried to shake the thoughts out of his heads as they walked down the damp street. This wasn’t about that. He was here to prove to Steve that he wasn’t against queer bars. To prove that nothing Steve could do or be would ever be enough to change Bucky’s opinion of him.

Steve was quiet for the walk, until he stopped suddenly and held out a hand to stop Bucky. “Listen,” he said, eyebrows furrowed. “Just...there are some ground rules.” He waited for Bucky to nod before continuing. “You can’t tell anyone who you see in here. Assume everyone is going by fake names and don’t ask for their real ones. If a fella asks you to dance, don’t take it as an insult. You...I know this isn’t your world, Buck, but I want them to like you.”

“I’ll behave, Steve.”

Steve rolled his eyes and pierced Bucky’s side with an elbow. “Jerk.”

“Punk.”

Despite his worry about Bucky fitting in, Steve abandoned him within five minutes of their entering the bar, drawn away by friends and drinks and leaving Bucky to fend for himself. From his vantage point in the corner, he caught sight of a girl that he was pretty sure was actually a girl - it was kind of hard to tell in here. Her yellow dress was a vibrant contrast with her dark skin and she stood out from the crowd of people in the most beautiful way. Okay, dancing. He could do some dancing; that couldn’t change much from place to place.

“Hey there,” he said, sliding up beside her and putting on his best smile. “Mind if I steal you away for a dance?”

The girl looked him up and down, an amused expression on her face. “You aren’t really my type, pal.”

“Handsome? Charming?”

“A man.”

Bucky blinked.

The girl laughed. “See over there?” she said, pointing out a light-haired woman on the other side of the bar. “That there’s my gal. So I’ll dance with you, but it’s just gonna be friendly.”

Bucky recovered, with what he thought was admirable speed considering the fact that this girl was making time with another girl (and a white one at that), and he held out his hand with a grin. “Well then, get ready for the best friendly dance of your life. I’m Bucky.”

“Dora,” said the girl. She set down her drink, took his hand, and allowed him to sweep her into the middle of the room.

“So,” she said, once they were swaying gently to the music, “I take it you don’t come here often.”

“No, ma’am.”

“You ain’t a cop, are you?”

Bucky shook his head. “I’m here with my pal, Steve.”

“Oh.”

They danced. It wasn’t until the song was changing that Bucky realized that what he said, in this setting, could be easily mistaken for something else. “I’m not with Steve,” he blurted out. Dora raised an eyebrow. “I just. Uh. I’m not queer.”

“I never would’ve guessed,” she answered, the corners of her lips twitching.

“Steve’s queer, I think. But he’s just my best friend. He wanted to come here instead of going dancing.”

“Alright.”

“It’s fine. That Steve is queer, I mean. I don’t mind it.”

“Well that’s a real stand-up thing of you.”

“Not that I think anyone should mind. Just that a lot of people do. Which you know, of course, since you’re queer. I mean, I’ve never met a queer dame before. I didn’t really think dames could be queer.”

“Well, we can be.”

“Right. Yeah, obviously, because you are. And I’m fine with that.”

“So you’ve said.”

“You can choose to be whatever you want.”

“Being queer wasn’t a choice,” said Dora, slowly losing her playful expression. “Why would anyone choose to be queer?”

“Well…” Bucky was finding it very hard to swallow. “I mean, well - look, I wasn’t - I didn’t mean it like that, I mean - I just meant that it’s Hashem’s job to judge, not mine.”

“So I’m going to hell, is what you’re saying?”

“Huh? No, wait - “

“Hey, Dora!”

Bucky had never been more glad to see Steve in his entire life. Dora had dropped his hand already and he stepped back to make room while Steve hugged her and exchanged a few pleasantries. “Hope you haven’t been too rough on Buck, here.”

“I’m not sure why you brought him here, Steve. He obviously doesn’t like us.”

Steve frowned. “That’s not Bucky. He’s the best man I know. A little flirty, maybe, but.”

“Hey!”

Steve rolled his eyes and ignored Bucky. “He’s a good guy, Dora, give him a chance.”

Dora looked at Bucky from head-to-toe, narrowed her eyes, and turned away with a _hmph._ The clacking of her heels grew faint as she slipped into the crowd by the bar. Steve glanced at Bucky with that confused face that did funny things to Bucky’s heartstrings, but Bucky kept his mouth firmly shut. After a minute of inspection, Steve’s eyes finally dropped away, he shrugged, and his hand latched onto Bucky’s wrist.

“C’mere!” he yelled, barely audible over the noise of the bar. “I want you to meet someone!”

Bucky obediently followed and was led by the wrist to a quieter section of the bar where someone was sitting with a cocktail. For half a second, Bucky thought it was a woman; but as Steve began introducing him and Bucky was able to look past the curled hair, vibrant lipstick, and tight red dress, he could see the dark skin of their face littered with stubble and shoulders that were too broad for the dress sleeves. “Buck,” Steve was saying, one arm slung around the person’s shoulders, “this is my pal Marilyn. Mary, this is Bucky.”

“Nice to finally put a face to the name,” Marilyn said in a much softer voice than Bucky had been expecting. “Stevie here’s told us a lot about you.”

“Only the good stuff, I hope,” said Bucky with a shaky grin, as he tried to shake off his confusion. James Buchanan Barnes had a reputation for charming men and women alike, and Marilyn definitely fell into _one_ of those two categories, which meant that Bucky could win Marilyn over.

“It’s all good stuff,” Steve was saying. “I’m going to get a drink, want another?”

“That’d be great, thanks, Stevie.”

“Try not to start any fights on your way there,” Bucky said as Steve slipped by, and he thoroughly enjoyed the eyeroll and scowl he got in return.

“Such a jerk,” Steve muttered, and he dug his elbow into Bucky’s side before grabbing Marilyn’s empty glass and heading for the bar, which had the advantage of being about three feet away from them.

Marilyn laughed a little. “Y’know, you kinda sound like my sister and her husband.”

That took a second to register. Marilyn was still chuckling softly to her - themself, and Bucky blurted out, _“What?”_

“Oh, I was just saying. My sister and her husband bicker like that. And you guys living together, and being so close, it just reminded me of them.”

“Steve and I aren’t married.”

Marilyn gave him an odd look. “I know. You just remind me of a married couple. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“We aren’t married,” Bucky repeated frantically. “I’m not queer.”

“I understand, Bucky,” Marilyn said calmly. “You’re new to this, I shouldn’t have spoken without thinking.”

“Hey!” Steve shouted, a grin on his face and three drinks in his hands. “You guys weren’t having all the fun without me, were you?”

Marilyn said something, and Steve distributed the drinks before sliding into the seat next to Bucky. He was sitting close. Maybe too close. Everyone else was probably thinking the same thing Marilyn did. That he and Steve were together, that Bucky was...But he wasn’t. He wasn’t. Going to a queer bar didn’t make him queer. He was just here for Steve, because Steve wanted to go here and Bucky wanted to go out with him instead of spending the night by himself. Bucky was a good friend. He wasn’t queer. But there probably wasn’t one person around him other than Steve who knew that. They all thought...

Bucky slumped in his chair and took a sip of his drink. Thoughts were whirling around his head, too fast for him to latch onto any for long, as he watched Steve and Marilyn laugh together. All fun for the evening was gone. Bucky took another drink, feeling stone-cold sober, and tried to listen to what Steve was saying over the roaring in his ears.

* * *

Bucky stepped inside, pressing his fingers to the mezuzah in the doorpost as he kicked off his shoes. Steve had been looking at him funny the entire walk home. Now that they were back, Bucky knew this meant talking, and having to give Steve a reason for being so quiet.

“What’s going on?” Steve asked the moment the door was shut behind them.

“Nothing,” Bucky answered, yanking off his tie. He was really not in the mood to have this conversation with Steve.

Steve scowled at him. “Bullshit. What, we go to a queer bar and now you can’t even stand to look at me?”

“That’s not it. Just let it go, Steve.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed. Bucky suppressed a groan as he started unbuttoning his shirt. Telling Steve to leave something alone was like telling a dog not to chase after a cat. “I’m just in a weird mood,” he amended. “It’s fine, I’ll go to sleep and be right as rain.”

“Why won’t you just tell me what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Steve.”

“Are you worried about your buddies finding out you were there? No one’ll tell, Buck - “

“I’m not worried about that.”

“So you are worried about _something?”_

Bucky decided to resign himself to the inevitable evil. When Steve wanted to know something, he kept going until he go the answer. “That...gal, uh, Marilyn? We talked for a bit. She said some stuff that got in my head, that’s all.”

“Like what?” Steve asked with a soft frown. “Marilyn’s always seemed real nice to me.”

“It wasn’t anything bad. Just got in my head.”

“What’d she say?”

“It’s nothing, Steve.”

“If you don’t tell me, I’ll just go back tomorrow and asked her.”

Bucky stared at Steve. Steve, as if trying to prove he meant business, crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow. “She…” Bucky’s throat was suddenly rough and scratchy. His eyes dropped to the floor. “She was...she was trying to make me _queer_.”

At first, Bucky’s eyes didn’t leave the stain on the floor next to his foot. But after several minutes of silence, he slowly glanced up to find Steve looking at him with an expression that was half-bemused, half-exasperated. “...Did you hear me?”

“Yeah, Buck,” Steve said in a perfectly calm voice. “I heard you.”

Steve’s lack of response was unnerving. “And...what do you think about it?”

After another moment of quiet eye contact, Steve slowly moved to plop down on the bed next to Bucky. “Okay,” he said with a poorly-hidden smile, “here’s what I think. First of all, Buck, no one can make you queer. You’re queer or you aren’t. Second, I think Marilyn was just talking to you.”

“No, she kept asking me about you.”

“...And how is that her trying to convert you into a queer?”

“It was the way she said it. Like she thought we were _together.”_

“And you don’t like that idea?”

Bucky faltered. Steve’s face wasn’t giving him any hints as to whether he was being serious or not. Carefully, feeling like he was navigating a minefield, Bucky said, “It doesn’t matter, Stevie. I’m not a queer.” In his head, the words were strong and resolute; they came out as unconvincing, even to himself.

Steve quirked an eyebrow. “Really? So, if I did this…” Slowly, those thin fingers unbuttoned his shirt, until his pale chest was completely exposed. One finger trailed lazily down his stomach. “It doesn’t do anything for you?”

Bucky was suddenly finding it very hard to swallow. “No,” he croaked out.

Steve put on a frown. “Hm. And if I did this…” He stepped closer, so close that if Bucky took a deep breath their chests would brush together. Luckily, Bucky had lost the ability to breathe completely. “Does this make you uncomfortable?” Steve asked in that deep, quiet voice that always messed with Bucky’s head.

“No,” he croaked out, because it didn’t. Nothing with Steve was ever uncomfortable. “I…”

“And what if I did this?” After making quick work of Bucky’s undershirt, Steve ran a slender hand across his chest. Bucky’s breath stuttered as Steve brushed across a nipple.

Steve bent forward and whispered, “Or this,” as his lips came down to Bucky’s neck, the touch feather-light.

All Bucky could manage to say was a hoarse, broken, “Steve,” and then his mouth was rushing to meet Steve’s and his hands sliding through that beautiful hair and his body pressed so close he could feel those boney hips against his own as Steve’s fingers dug into his shoulder and he enthusiastically kissed Bucky back.

 

* * *

Bucky was staring at the ceiling.

He was in bed, a shirtless Steve tucked against his side. When his eyes strayed down to the expanse of milky skin he felt a fervent tugging at his heart, so his eyes stayed resolutely fixed above him as he thought about how absolutely fucked he was.

“You’re thinking too loud,” Steve muttered sleepily, turning to press his face into Bucky’s neck. “Go to sleep.”

“Steve?” Steve let out a soft grunt. “Are...are you queer?”

Steve snorted and Bucky could feel the vibrations of laughter in his chest. “What do _you_ think?” When Bucky didn’t make any reply, he sighed, lifted his arm from where it was draped across Bucky’s torso, and rolled onto his side so he could meet Bucky’s eyes. “Yeah, Buck. I’m queer. I like men.”

“...Am I queer?” Bucky asked in a whisper. He felt paralyzed. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.

Steve shrugged. “I dunno, Buck. You’ll have to figure that out for yourself. You enjoyed what we did, right?”

“Yes,” Bucky answered, probably too quickly. Steve smiled at him. “But I like dames too...I think.”

“You think?”

“Well I’ve never, exactly...I mean, I’ve done stuff, we just haven’t ever…”

Steve’s mouth dropped open, his eyes bugging out with...horror? “Bucky,” he said in a broken voice, “that was your first time? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It was just...we just...it was, um, only...touching.”

“That doesn’t matter, Buck. Your first time should be special. God, I’m sorry - “

“Hey, no, I liked it.” Then again, louder and more to himself than to Steve, “I liked it.”

“...It’s okay to be queer,” Steve murmured after a moment, a hand sliding across Bucky’s chest. “Really, Buck. It’s okay.”

Bucky frowned. “How can you say that? It’s not okay, Steve. It’s _to’evah_. An abomination.”

“How is it an abomination to love someone?”

“I...that’s what the Torah says, Steve.”

“I know.” Steve’s finger traced figure-eights on his chest. “It’s what the Bible says too. But if God is real, I don’t think he’d cast us into damnation with the murderers and thieves just because we love each other.”

“Do we? Love each other?”

Steve’s finger halted, and he turned to smile shyly at Bucky. “I dunno,” he said softly. “But I know that I love you. I’m in love with you, Buck. I’ve been in love with you for a long, long time.” Bucky opened his mouth to say...something, but Steve pressed a finger to his lips. “Just listen to me. Nothing that I do is gonna make me stop loving you. God himself couldn’t do that. If you don’t love me, if you wanna go out and find yourself a girl and get married, that’s okay. But I’ll be here. Til the end of the line.”

Steve carefully bent forward and when he met no objection from Bucky, whose mind was working at a pace it wasn’t equipped to handle, he kissed him for the briefest of moments. Then he snuggled back down into his previous spot under Bucky’s arm, and was asleep within minutes.

Bucky was jealous of him. Everything was simple, to Steve. Right or wrong. Truth or lie. Love or hate. Bucky couldn’t make it that easy on himself.

Did he love Steve? Absolutely. Since that warm afternoon day when he was eight years old, and they first met, he’d known that he wasn’t interested in any kind of life without Steve in it. But was he _in_ love with Steve?

Bucky was a good Jew. He kept kosher and prayed and tried to never work on Shabbat, if he could possibly help it. He always had dinner with his family during the High Holidays. He studied the Torah and murmured the words to himself in rough Hebrew as he read. And the Torah explicitly said that a man laying down with another man as he would a woman was _wrong_ , an abomination, punishable by death. And it wasn’t just the Torah saying that. When he went to work at the docks, he heard daily the discussions between his coworkers about the queens and fairies that hang around, and what they wanted to do to them to show that this was a place for real men only. He’d heard stories of people who’d been caught being queer. Being beaten half to death was getting off easy.

Why should he make his life any harder than it has to be?

Maybe Steve didn’t have his faith anymore, so he didn’t care about the consequences of his actions. Bucky, however - Bucky did have faith. Bucky’s faith had been a part of him his entire life, from his birth to his bar mitzvah to now. He can’t turn his back on it.

But then, didn’t G-d call all of his people to love? How could loving Steve be an abomination? Nothing about Steve was an abomination. He was the best person Bucky’d ever had the honor of knowing - definitely a hell of a lot better than Bucky would ever be. And VaYikra commanded to “love thou neighbor as thyself.” By refusing to even consider the possibility of loving Steve, Bucky would be ignoring G-d. But he already knew he loved Steve. Surely he wouldn’t be ignoring G-d if that just didn’t extend to romantic love?

Steve shifted next to him, making soft noises in his sleep. They’d slept together before - it’d been a necessity in cold winters when there was barely enough money for food, let alone heat - but never like this. Steve’s sharp elbows might dig into his side, or Bucky might accidentally brush his leg against Steve’s icy foot, but it wasn’t this. This was...different. Bucky couldn’t articulate what exactly made it different. Maybe it was because less than an hour ago Steve had seen him at his most vulnerable. Maybe it was because he can still feel the phantom touch of Steve’s hands on his body, those big hands with long artist’s fingers. Or maybe it was because everything Bucky thought he knew about himself was being thrown into question.

Either way, he stayed lying there, Steve’s body tucked against him, and didn’t fall asleep until Steve’s hair was being illuminated by the faint streaks of sunrise.

* * *

While Bucky felt his whole world had been tipped on its axis, Steve seemed to not have a care in the world.

He made breakfast and made conversation and scolded Bucky for trying to sneak looks at his sketchbook. He laughed and grinned and his eyes were lit up with that potent mix of passion and mischief. He was acting like it was a normal day. Like his hands hadn’t been on Bucky the night before. Like he hadn’t told Bucky that he was queer and in love with him.

Steve. In love with him. It still made Bucky’s head spin, even though it was all he’d been able to think about for the past twelve hours. Steve loved him. Had for a while, apparently. Suddenly Steve’s reluctance to go on dates made more sense. He wasn’t sure what the thing with Arnie was - if he was an attempt to move on, or if it had nothing to do with feelings and everything to do with sex, but no matter what it was obviously a blip in the radar. Bucky was trying to remember the last time Steve had wanted to go on a date or had been staying over at a fella’s since Arnie. He was drawing a blank. And Steve hadn’t been with Arnie for eight months. So either Stevie was planning on joining the priesthood (doubtful, since he was in confession every other day) or there was something going on.

Bucky was very confused about the protocol here. What were you supposed to do when your best friend told you he loved you and then went around the next morning acting like nothing had ever happened? Had Bucky dreamt it? No, he hadn’t - he could feel Steve’s hands running over his skin, clear as day. Why was Steve acting like he hadn’t just confessed his love for Bucky? Was he just drunk? No, he’d only had a couple drinks. Steve was a lightweight, sure, but even he couldn’t get drunk off that.

Bucky didn’t have a damn clue.

He managed to hold off until the sun was just beginning to set, and Steve was boiling some vegetables for their dinner while whistling a tune under his breath. Bucky really should’ve just left the room. That’s what he would’ve done, had he been a smarter man. Unfortunately, Bucky had just never been that bright.

“Are you in love with me?”

Saying it in the daytime felt a million times more terrifying, and Bucky’s fear was in no way abated by the way Steve’s whistling was cut off and he turned to look at Bucky with furrowed eyebrows. Well. This was it. Bucky had imagined that Steve was in love with him and now he’d scare Steve away and make him move out which meant Bucky would lose the apartment and he’d spend the rest of his life alone in a box on the front stoop eating penny candies and drinking rainwater.

“I thought I made that pretty clear, Buck.”

...Or, maybe Bucky hadn’t imagined it and just had an overactive sense of anxiety.

“You…” Bucky swallowed, throat suddenly dry. “Um...so all that, it actually happened?”

Steve frowned. “Last night? Yes, it did. Did you somehow get drunk without me realizing?”

“No.”

Steve rolled his eyes, crossed the room to where Bucky was leaned against the window in one stride, slipped a hand around his neck, and pulled him down so his lips met Steve’s in a quick, firm kiss. Steve smirked as he pulled away. “I can do that whenever you need the reminder.”

“You...I…”

“I’ve gotten good reviews on my technique before, but I’ve never actually kissed anyone’s brains out yet. You in there, Buck?”

“Yes,” Bucky answered, trying his best not to blush and failing miserably. “I just...you hadn’t said anything.”

“I actually thought I said more than I needed to.”

“No, I mean...today. Today, you didn’t say anything.”

Steve’s eyebrow quirked. “I guess I thought what I said last night would’ve made the impression on you. What did you want me to say?”

And really, that was the question, wasn’t it? Was Bucky expecting to wake up to more professions of love? Because that would be a pretty weighty piece of evidence in favor of him being a fairy. Did he want Steve to take it all back, apologize and say he was drunk and ask for the two of them to just forget it ever happened, and they’d chalk it up to staying out too late and drinking too much? Well...no. No, he didn’t want that.

Something about Bucky’s blank expression must’ve triggered sympathy in Steve, because he smiled softly and went to run a hand through Bucky’s hair, like he had a million times before. “It’s okay if you don’t have it all figured out, Buck. There’s no pressure. If you want to go out on dates with ladies and come home and make time with me, that’s fine. If you want to just forget about this and be friends, that’s okay too. You decide.”

“I don’t wanna decide,” Bucky muttered.

Steve rolled his eyes. “Well, Buck, it’s not like I can decide for you. You can go back to the bar and take anonymous votes, if you’d like.”

“I feel like you’re making fun of me.”

“Just a little bit,” Steve answered with that dumb smirk that made Bucky want to...well, that’s neither here nor there. “But seriously, Bucky, you don’t need to know how you feel right away. It takes time to figure out who you are and what you want.”

“But...what if you get tired of waiting for me to figure it out?” Bucky’s voice came out in a whisper, his eyes trained on the floor, as he gave voice to what was really his only fear in this situation. He could handle anything, find his way out of any mess, but only as long as he had Steve.

Steve knocked an elbow into his side. “I’m not going anywhere, pal, not unless you want me to. End of the line, right?”

“I don’t want you to go anywhere. I mean...I’m not sure, exactly, what I want, or...how-how I feel, but I can’t lose you, Stevie. You’re my best friend.”

“You’re my best friend too, Buck.” Steve’s smile turned sweet, and he moved so his side was pressed against Bucky’s as they stood. Bucky reached out and put an arm around his shoulders without even thinking about it. Steve gave a contented sigh and leaned into Bucky’s chest. His bony shoulders were digging into Bucky’s side and those damn elbows were carving out pieces of his torso.

Bucky pulled him in tighter.

 


End file.
